A huge thank you to everybody who entered this year’s contest. We had more entries than ever before, and I laughed out loud at many submissions. I’m constantly amazed and delighted by the imaginative nuttery of folks who read my blog.
Before I announce the winner and runners up, I’d like to take a moment to single out some entries for Honorable Mention. (Come on — you knew I’d drag out the suspense. I’m a thriller writer.) These all made me smile.
Chris: Mr. Peebles crosses the finish line to win Cousin Tater’s tots.
Tony: Embracing his new career in puppy-rodeo, George W Bush got ready to lasso him some chicken wings.
Lloyd: Perk of the job: highly-trained narcotics detection dog scores a whole noseload of the good stuff, but now he’s hallucinating, he’s got a monkey on his back.
Pop Culture Nerd: Lassie’s cousin Lessie’s career didn’t turn out as well.
Flakes: In an uncharacteristic outburst Ferd cries, “Screw you Mr. Peebles–screw you and the dog you rode in on!”
Rhonda Elston Mickelson: Devolution. (Extra points for brevity!)
Dru: Giddiyup, I’m the Lone Ranger on a dog.
The bar’s doors swayed back and forth on their rusted hinges, squeaking an ancient hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye with every swing.
Peebles hippity hopped–the way monkeys do–out to the middle of the dirt road. He fumbled his gun and was cut down before he could hoot a “draw.”
Chunks of Peebles clung to every hooker on the weathered boardwalk–he was reduced to Rhesus pieces.
Susan: After the crippling expenses of The Wedding, the Queen insisted on severe cutbacks throughout the family exchequer. However, the savings realised on reducing Charles’s exhorbitant polo pony bills were more than offset by the cost of acquiring down-sized riders.
Astrid Y.C. Have: (Special recognition for being the youngest entrant, and writing in her second language. Astrid is eight, Danish, living in Beijing, attending an international school.)
I think that the monkey is on the dog because it is rescuing a person.
Or maybe it’s about to go home and change to his Halloween costume. And getting his bag for trick or treating. When he was done he went to meet his friends at the park. One of his friends was dressed as a dog. The other one was dressed as a monster and it frightened the dog so it ran as fast as it could from the monster. When the Halloween ended the dog ran home. The monkey was so exhausted after the party. He most got candies so he tried one and said ’’Um……um….well….I love it!!! And he was glad that Halloween was today! Next time on Halloween he knew what to do and that is not to meet others at parks but anywhere else. Or else one of them maybe will be dressed as a monster again so it’ll scare away the dog again.
Runners up: These two entrants will both receive signed copies of one of my novels.
Please accept my action photo for your next printing of Wheaties – Breakfast of Capuchins! Being the generous soul that I am, I plan on sending 10% of my (net, after expenses) royalty payments to charity.
Mr. Peebles demonstrates the intricacies of herding lawn ornaments in the National Gnomeo Finals.
And the winner, who will have a character named after him in my upcoming novel Ransom River:
As Jo lay on the ground wrestling with Little Ricky, she looked over his shoulder and saw that the first of the Monkey Collie cybernetic hybrids designed in the bowels of China Lake’s military research facilities was bearing down upon her. Since Ferd had accidentally created a rift in reality with the creation of his own fully functional, artificially intelligent, katana-wielding, and unanticipatedly evil Seven of Jo-bot, Murphy’s Law had not only gone into overdrive: It had mutated and evolved into the writhing, tentacular force that now dominated their lives. Dolls had become possessed, evil schemes had been facilitated, and all those closest to Jo had been turned into living zombies controlled by her own evil borg counterpart. Jo had to destroy her. But first, she had to reduce Little Ricky to evil kindling and evade the Monkey Collies – which, when they sighted their prey, blew miniature horns modeled after those of Charlton Heston’s full-size pursuers in The Planet of the Apes. Couldn’t she ever just wake up in a nice frothy comedy? Or in a musical, singing ABBA . . . or would that be even more terrifying?
Well done, all. Congratulations.
(Photo credit: Dan Callister/Rex Features)